


In My Dreams, You Should See the Things We Do

by AllJisbonThings



Series: Loving Him Was Red [1]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Anal Play, F/M, Fingering, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllJisbonThings/pseuds/AllJisbonThings
Summary: "Lying in bed, thinking about Patrick. You're a little in love with him, eh?" Sean Barlow didn't just catch her off of her game. He stumbled onto her greatest indulgence.  Please heed the rating and the tags!
Relationships: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon
Series: Loving Him Was Red [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971430
Kudos: 21





	In My Dreams, You Should See the Things We Do

"...lying in bed, thinking about Patrick. You're a little in love with him, eh?"

Teresa could barely keep a straight face as Sean Barlow continued his act. She didn't even try to deny it, but she knew well enough to look away from the man with forced disdain. She refused to give the fake psychic the answers he was digging for, distancing herself from the answer he received. 

For God's sake, was she that transparent to everyone? Everyone except him? Did he know and just ignore it? Worst: did he not find her attractive at all? She hoped she seemed indifferent to her blond consultant, but apparently, it took one look at her and their interactions to know she had feelings for him.

Barlow was wrong, though. She wasn't a little in love with Patrick Jane. She was undoubtedly, unconditionally, stupidly, head over heels, in love with him. It was a love she'd keep to herself, because for a cold reading genius he could be damn blind when it came to her feelings for him. Or he chose to ignore her feelings, the thought escaped before she could control it and she fought to keep herself from grimacing. It was already hard enough to be around Jane and not being able to express all that love, she didn't need a third person rubbing the things she had done to herself in his face. 

She wondered if Jane knew, too. Of course, Barlow hadn't been explicit, but the implication was there. And if he, who didn't know her from Eve, could see that, then maybe she should stop. How could she stop? Teresa had been longing to be with him for so long, to have every little piece of him he kept to himself. His hurts, fears, anger, love, happiness. Everything that made Jane, Jane.  
She had nothing. Just a few hugs that she could count in one hand, the fake "love you" that felt a lot like the real thing, and the sight of him was all she had. He was so close yet so far away.

She often thought of what would happen if the explanation of his “love you” would’ve been different. What if he hadn’t just said it in the heat of the moment? Would she have given into him right then, or would she make him work for it? Would he whisper “love you” as they made love?  
No woman could keep herself from fantasizing. Despite what the catechism said, she’d given up long ago on waiting for some mythical husband to complete her and share her passions. She needed the release to feel alive, to feel her own existence as a woman. And if God could create that love in her, then maybe he'd be ok with her getting affection from the version of him she created in her mind only. 

The Jane--Patrick--who existed only in her mind was not scared of showing her love. He wasn’t afraid of anything as he fully embraced her. He wouldn't pretend to forget the words he said. His hands would trail down, but stop on, every erogenous zone on her body. Patrick would kiss, lick and bite until she was a sobbing mess, begging for more. No man had ever made her beg, but she had the feeling that he would. He would be so good to her, knowing exactly where and how to touch her. Teresa just knew it.

Flashes of how she spent her night popped in her mind, bringing a blush to her face that she hoped no one noticed. Her towel on the floor, her naked body still damp and warm from the shower touching the cold dark blue sheets and making her shiver from the contrast. If his body was there, covering hers, she would be shivering for a whole different reason.

Her need had been at its peak the night before, love mixed with arousal and she could feel herself slowly getting wet between her legs as her nipples hardened. Imagination was never her forte. Teresa considered herself a very practical woman. If she felt horny, she would simply go out and find a nice one-night-stand. Picking up men was never hard for her, and she briefly entertained finding one for tonight. But Patrick changed her outlook, for she was in a constant state of arousal and no other man seemed to quench her thirst. She had been forced to get better at picturing him with her and by now she was a pro. A pathetic thing to be a pro at, she conceded, but it was all she had.

She sucked her fingers, bringing their wetness to her nipples and picturing his mouth sucking and biting at the tender skin. The agent closed her eyes and let her head fall with a thud on her soft pillow as she tweaked her nipples with one hand and the other pulled her own hair at the nape of her neck. In her mind, his enormous hand tangled in her wet locks. The image was enough to make her moan.

"Patrick!" Escaped her lips, breathy and shaky. His ego was already a plane that only went up, but he wouldn't mock her for that, for he too, would be aroused out of his mind. Then her damp fingers had traveled down, slowly, drawing abstract patterns on her own stomach, but picturing his tongue doing that to her.

Teresa's gasps and groans were starting to get louder and louder, and she knew he wouldn't touch her unless she asked for it. Even if it felt like torture and she was the one putting herself through that, she bit her own lips as her fingers skimmed over her own center, dragging moisture with it but not really staying long enough to do something other than make her wetter. As if they had a mind of their own, her legs, that had been stretched on the mattress, spread wide to accommodate the most frustratingly handsome, intoxicating, frustrating blond haired, blue eyed man she’d ever laid eyes on. 

"Patrick, give me more." Teresa wasn't even embarrassed anymore. She had been calling his name and asking him that for a long, long time, used to pretending he was there. She had gotten used to it, especially after he'd came back from Las Vegas having had sex with that woman. Red John's minion. She didn’t want to think of her right now. She preferred to think only of her Patrick, not whatever lies, soft truths, and leftovers he was willing to give her.

“Jealousy is an aphrodisiac,” her mind offered as an explanation for why she had been imagining him more lately. In real life, she would never have him like Lorelei had, so she might as well indulge her own fantasies in the loneliness of her bedroom.

"Was that a demand, my love?" His voice in her head sounded rough, almost as if he was forcing himself to speak. "You know I don't like those."

Her fingers touched her own center again, still too quickly and light as a feather, and she could see his tongue gathering her juices. A single tear made its way down her face from the effort of holding back and not just plunging two fingers into her warm wet heat. Patrick would never be one of those guys who'd just shove his length inside her and be done. She was certain he'd take his time and give her as much pleasure as he felt.

"Patrick, Patrick, please," Teresa didn't even know what she was begging for, but she was. And she rewarded herself for finally breaking, Patrick smirking just before letting his tongue touch her clit.

Nowadays it wouldn't be enough if she just found some lube, applied on herself and rubbed circles around her clit. No, she needed to picture him in every step of the way if she wanted to come harder and quicker. So her own index became his clever tongue that delved into her folds and slowly circled the small bundle of nerves that lit her on fire.

A minute went by so fast she couldn't quite believe she was close to her peak already, but she stopped. Behind her closed eyelids he trailed his way up, till his mouth was on hers and his cock rubbed her entrance.

"Tell me what you want!" He demanded as she propped herself on one of her elbows and positioned her right index and middle fingers where he'd be.

"You… in… me."

Her fingers would never be as good as him. For fuck's sake, only the image of him entering her was enough to send shivers down her entire body. She could only dream what would happen to her if she ever got the chance to really have him there.

She pictured him pounding her into her mattress with his forceful thrusts as she gave herself over to him. Her position was a bit awkward, but she managed to extend her thumb and rub it on her clit every time she moved her fingers inside of her at the same speed he was pounding her into the mattress. 

She was so wet her juices were dripping to her anus. All Teresa could think of was how Patrick would appreciate touching her there as well, so she straightened her ring finger and without thinking slipped it first knuckle deep into muscle. The intrusion felt exquisite and she tightened a bit around all her fingers. 

"Relax for me, Teresa," He sounded strained, but given the fact that she pictured him fucking her on all fours with his fingers in her ass, preparing her to get fucked there too, she could understand. "It feels so much better when you squeeze me all at once when you cum. Relax and I'll make you cum so hard you'll black out."

And that she did. Not ten seconds after relaxing she felt something strong coiling in the base of her abdomen. The first one was always the strongest one.

"PATRICK!" Teresa yelled letting her head fall back as her ring finger slipped three knuckles deep into her anus and her other fingers held their position, pleasure washing over her like a tsunami.

The Patrick of her imagination always brought her to the best orgasms she had ever had. Ones that left her panting, airways burning trying to pull the air in, but unable to stop moaning. Afterwards, she’d lie there as though he held her in his arms.

Sean Barlow mentioning her name was what pulled her back to what she was doing, but the damage was done. She held the evidence of her current arousal in her soaking wet panties. She was never more glad that she had a complete change of clothes in her office--or that she wasn't a man. Otherwise, even those blind to her love and passion for the blond haired man would notice exactly how much she wanted him. 

As she made a contingency plan to clean up and change once they reached the CBI headquarters again, she wondered if maybe it was time to stop indulging her fantasies. After all, it was starting to intervene with her job and the real Jane would never let something as silly as sex get in the way of the job. He’d been clear about that. Maybe it was time to come back to the real world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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